


Buck Begins

by oneawkwardcookie



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Buckley Parents - Freeform, Flashbacks, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Origin Story, POV Alternating, POV Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), POV Evan "Buck" Buckley, Pre-Relationship Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Whump, Worried Eddie Diaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27839788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneawkwardcookie/pseuds/oneawkwardcookie
Summary: What if Buck had been trapped under 30 feet of earth instead?
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 216





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is Eddie Begins, but with Buck as the titular character instead. I've been diligently avoiding any season 4 spoilers, so this is just my take on things (as started around June of this year!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Flashbacks are marked with page dividers i.e. like this bit of text  
> 

The sound of the door shutting is familiar, but that doesn’t stop how his heart sinks as he hears the metal click and the footsteps fade. He curls up in his bed and shoves his face into his pillow, to try and muffle the sound of his crying, to try and avoid drawing more attention to himself and invite another telling off.

He doesn’t succeed, and he lifts his tear-soaked face up towards where his father towers in the doorframe.

“I-I-I’m s-sorry” he gulps out. “I won’t r-r-run around so much and t-t-talk so much.”

“Stop stuttering Evan, and stop crying so loudly - the neighbors will hear and _then_ what will they think? You’re always so loud.” The hiss in his father’s whisper ties more knots in his stomach. 

The door is left ajar as his father sweeps out, but there’s nowhere else to go. He wraps his blanket tightly around his shoulders and rocks himself to sleep. 

He comes to, slowly at first, eyes blearily blinking open, struggling to see much in the dim light of his torch. There’s a rumbling sound and he’s fully conscious; can feel the water lapping his legs, the earth behind his body, the dust in the air.

His hand reaches over to his radio, fingers fumbling a little as he pulls it off a nearby ledge and brings it to his mouth.

“Guys, it’s Buck.” He groans as the movement of his chest sends a shooting pain through him. He aches all over.

“It’s Evan. I’m here, I’m trapped down here, I’m still here!”

His thumb slips off the radio button and he whispers into the earth around him, “please don’t leave me by myself.”

* * *

* * *

“Firefighter Diaz, do you copy?”

Eddie passes another loop of the hoses over the hook before reaching for the radio on his chest.

“5-5-5 Cap, over.”

Finishing up his work, he smiles to himself as he heads back into the station to the sound of Chimney responding, Hen’s voice buzzing through his radio after Chim complains about his coffee order. He’s just walking in when he hears Bobby asking Buck to sound off.

Buck bounces up to the balcony, a half-eaten slice of toast in his hand as he grins down at them.

“Cap, we have –”

Buck trails off. Bobby shouts that they need to use the radio, but Buck has a shell-shocked look on his face and seems not to hear. He follows the stricken look to where an older couple are asking Luis where Evan is, getting a perplexed shrug in return. Bobby’s face goes from fond exasperation to mild concern as he walks forwards and asks if he can help them.

“We’re looking for Evan.”

“And who might you be?”

The man pulls himself up to his full height, blue eyes burning with indignation. “We’re his parents.”

Buck trudges down the stairs to four pairs of eyes on him. Eddie notices how he seems to be curling in on himself, his previous smile having entirely disappeared. Bobby looks sternly at them for a second before walking off, giving them privacy. Eddie sees the flash of panic on Buck’s face and slides nearer, absent-mindedly shuffling equipment on the side of the truck.

His mother brushes a hand over his shoulder. “You’ve clearly still not learnt to eat properly.” Buck hastily wipes at his mouth at the admonishment.

“Mom, Dad, what are you doing here?” Even from the side, he can see the disdainful look on the woman’s face.

“We need a reason to be here?” There’s a heavy pause, the weight of decades hanging between them on a thread that neither party seems willing to cut. “We found out from Mary that Madeleine is pregnant, so we thought we’d come and see exactly what she’s been up to.”

“…Maddie. Right.”

Eddie feels a sting in his hand from where he’s been gripping an axe too hard. He releases the white-knuckle hold, resting the implement back into its correct place and tuning back into the conversation.

“So, this is where you work.” His father swivels his head round, appraising the firehouse. “Hmm.”

It’s not like Buck to be this silent, and it riles him up that he can sense the discomfort from where he stands, and yet Buck’s own parents are either oblivious or uncaring to it.

He’s moving before he realizes he’s made his mind up, calling out across the bay. “You’re not going to help me out with the hoses?” He strides towards the group, coming to a stop next to Buck.

“Eddie Diaz,” he directs the introduction at the man, arm brushing against Buck as he holds out his hand. He doesn’t know how long they stand at an impasse, but they’re jolted out of the frozen moment in time by the blaring of the alarm.

You’d have to be blind to not notice the relief on Buck’s face, illuminated in red, except his mother is still looking expectantly at him. Buck seems stuck on the spot.

He grabs his arm and tugs him towards the truck, leaving Buck to blurt out, “we’ll talk later.” He keeps the grip on Buck’s arm once they’re in the truck, only loosening it slightly when Buck slumps in his seat.

* * *

The ride passes without much conversation, although he can sense Chim and Hen looking at him, and feel the questions laced into Eddie’s silence. They pull into the front of the farm to see a police cruiser already parked up. Bobby drops down from the truck and strides forwards, joining Athena as they make their way towards the house.

He hops out, followed closely by Eddie, who jogs to catch up with him.

“I wonder what’s happened to the kid?” He tries for levity, even though he knows that a child in danger is even less of a laughing matter for Eddie than it is for him.

“I’m thinking more of the parents.”

He makes the mistake of turning around and is stopped in his tracks by the intense way Eddie is looking at him, searching his face as though that’ll give him whatever answers he needs. He knows what questions Eddie's eyes hold, but he can’t open that box, at least not here. Not when even he doesn’t know exactly what lies underneath.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” He walks in to see Bobby and Athena crowded around the fireplace, before Bobby turns to them, eyes lighting up with a realization, before narrowing at the implication of it. 

“There’s an abandoned well on the property.”

They move to spread out across the farm, and he’s the last one through the door. Looking out across the field, he tries to imagine where a child would play. Turning around, he walks back into the living room and kneels in front of the little girl, who’s still crying in her mother’s lap.

He addresses the mother. “What’s her name?” 

“Emmy.” She clutches her daughter closer.

Turning to the little girl, he softens his voice further. “Hi Emmy, I’m Buck, and I’m here to help. Where were you and your brother last playing?”

In between hiccoughed sobs and sniffles, Buck catches the words “near”, “gate”, and “tank”.

“That’s alright, you’re being very brave and that’s very helpful, thank you.”

Looking up at Athena, he straightens up and makes his way back outside, eyes scanning for a gate nearby. He finds it to his left, slightly ajar, two sets of footprints scuffed in the dirt.

Tank. This farm is old, given that it had a windmill, but he thinks that a tank would be easily noticeable. She must be talking about one of his toys. He looks over on the ground, following the footprints over onto some crates, and sees the tank lying on its side beside… a hole in the ground.

He inhales to shout, before remembering his radio and calling everyone over. By the time they’re gathered around him, he’s kneeling down besides the pipe, peering into the darkness. He calls down, straining to hear a response.

He doesn’t get one.

* * *

Bobby orders them to get a visual and there’s soon a camera being lowered down. They count the depth in feet, the numbers slowly increasing as the computer screen just reflects back their concerned faces.

“How far does this thing go?” The entrance looks tiny and he can’t reconcile it with the picture of the boy in the house. Still, Hayden is so young, a few years younger than Christopher, than Denny, than Harry.

“Can a boy even survive a fall that far?” Athena is both incredulous and concerned as she looks over to Bobby for answers.

Hen’s eyes are pinned on the screen. “The well is narrow so there’s lots of friction to slow the fall. If he’s really down there.” Buck notices him first, a head of muddy brown hair emerging from the gloom. The team exhale: at least they know where he is now. “Look at the way he’s pinned: arms forward, chest constricted, shallow breath.” Hen winces at the image she sees.

Chimney clenches his jaw. “45 feet: at that depth, oxygen is an issue. Cap, we gotta get a line of compressed air down their asap.” 

“Alright –” Bobby is interrupted by the boy’s mother, skidding on the gravel as she shoves into their midst.

“Have you found him? Is he…” She can’t finish her sentence.

Athena places a firm but soothing arm around her. “He’s alive, he’s alive.” The woman sobs in relief.

* * *

“Now what first responders are most worried about is a weather system moving into the area.” The news crews have set up camp besides the drill rig, their camera lights adding to the floodlights that have been erected. The intersecting beams of lights are only disturbed by faint lines of rain, spots of it getting dragged across the camera lenses.

The oncoming storm sends leaves skittering across the ground before they are caught in the wheels of the drill, which whirs louder than the growing crowds and the people milling around, churning through the earth whilst everyone can only watch and wait.

He looks around and spots Eddie, though he’s busy talking to Bobby, mouth set in a grim expression and their conversation inaudible from the distance. They part ways, Eddie heading into the house and he’s about to follow when Hen claps a hand on his shoulder.

“We need to talk to the boy, to tell him what’s happening so he doesn’t get scared by the drilling.” She directs her words at Bobby, but she can’t have missed the way he shivers.

Once the microphone is transmitting again, the mother clutches the radio under her chin, shaking slightly in a way that clearly has nothing to do with the howling wind and everything to do with the silent child on the screen. He keeps his eyes pinned on the muddied head, squinting to try and catch any movement, any sign that he’s still fighting, that he can hear them.

“Hayden? Hayden, it’s Mommy, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m here. I’m – ”

He looks over to the mother to see her choked up, tears preventing her from uttering another sound. He puts his arm around her and pries the radio from her trembling fingers. Hen takes the mother away as he tightens his grip, clicking the talk button.

“Hi Hayden. My name’s Buck, I’m one of the firefighters with your mom. We’re coming to get you. You’re not alone, we’ll be with you soon. Your mom loves you; you just need to stay strong and hold on.”

He looks over to Bobby as he clicks the radio and gets a tight-lipped nod in return. He breathes out a sigh of relief, but he can’t stop his eyes returning to the image on the screen. They have to get him out; they can’t fail him.

* * *

They’re standing in a circle, protecting their fronts, but the wind catches on the loose edge of his coat, bites at the side of his face, looking for any gap in their huddled defenses. The lightning is bursts through the wind and the rain, casting a ghostly pallor over their concerned expressions.

Bobby’s face is grim as he looks around at them all. “Right, we need someone to go down.”

“I’ll do it.” Everyone swivels to where he’s spoken up, and he repeats himself with more steel.

He keeps his eyes on Bobby, mouth resolutely set against any objection. Bobby doesn’t say anything, but Eddie volunteers himself straight afterwards, followed immediately by Chimney.

“You both have people to go home to.” This earns him a grimace from Chim, and Eddie grabs his shoulder, the grip almost painful even through the layers of protective clothing, but Buck turns to him and glares him down. “Christopher needs you.”

He hates the flicker of hurt across Eddie’s face before he drops his hand, but it gets him what he needs: it’s enough to silence him. The thunder rumbles away instead.

“…Okay – Buck, suit up.”

The wedding is an elaborate affair, no expense spared on the reception, which had pleased their parents enough to prompt what he thought were genuine smiles as the photographer made his way around the room. Mom is giddily drunk on champagne, swaying on the dancefloor with some family friend or colleague he barely recognizes. Dad laughs way too loudly at something Doug says, even as Maddie only responds with her polite smile, turning up the brightness when Doug turns his beam at his new wife. He averts his gaze to look out across the room instead.

He tugs at the bowtie, digging two fingers under his collar to try and soothe where the fabric has been scratching against his neck, only stopping when Maddie places a hand over his, leaning over to whisper, “just pop one button under the bowtie, no one will realize.”

“Thanks.” He breathes a little easier for the rest of the meal.

He stays sitting at the table as everyone else gets up to dance, since he doesn’t know what to do with the looks he’s been getting all night. He’d also grown an inch since they bought the outfit, and couldn’t bear to stand through another suit fitting, so his trousers are skimming his ankles, much to Mom’s chagrin. 

He scans the room and spots Doug dancing with one of his sisters, a smug look on his face.

“Are you leaving straight away?” He winces a little at how it sounds.

“Yeah, flights are first thing tomorrow.” Maddie brushes at the shoulder of his suit jacket before leaving a hand there.

“It’ll be quiet without you, Maddie.” He stares at his reflection in his shoes.

“I’m only be two states away. I’ll stay in touch.” Her grip on his shoulder tightens a little, and he straightens up and turns in his seat to look at his sister.

“Promise?”

She lifts an arm up to rest her elbow on the table, outstretched hand curling until there’s only a pinky finger left.

“Promise.”

The storm fills the horizon, bringing a heaviness that permeates the mood. The timer blinks down through the gloom, numbers that seem to change far too slowly, stretching the time that Buck is underground into an empty eternity. The rain is only getting heavier with each passing minute, and he can feel himself tensing up, burrowing his boots into the mud as he maintains a firm grip on the rope.

“We should pull him out.” He directs the statement at Bobby, whose face is illuminated with a brilliant flash, revealing only a raised eyebrow in response to his request. Hen reassures him instead.

“He could almost be there, there’s still 5 minutes left.”

It’s not about the time left, but the time that’s passed: 25 minutes, the last few of which have passed in radio silence, the crackling and booming louder than the thunder that almost drowns out his next sentence. He looks over as another minute ticks over in vivid red.

“It’s been too long.”

* * *

The numbers flicker downwards on his wrist as he scoops away at the mud, and the pace of the saw feels glacial even as he shields his eyes from the sparks. He breaks out into a tired grin when the pressure on the blade gives way. Wriggling his head and neck through the gap, he looks up to where there should be a pair of legs hanging above his head.

There’s nothing there.

Twisting his head down, he spots the top of Hayden’s head a few feet below the gap in the pipe and lets out a deep sigh.

“Hayden!” The young boy slowly lifts his head towards Buck’s voice. “Hi Hayden, it’s Buck. We spoke before. I told you I’d come for you.”

As he squirms round to slot his arm through the gap, he calls out, “how are you holding up?”

Hayden shivers out his reply, the voice echoing up to him.

“I’m scared.”

“I know, but it’ll be alright. I’ve got you. I’m coming for you, just stay where you are.”

The radio has done nothing but echo back silence for the last few minutes, but he just needs to work fast – he can do this; just needs to reach down and secure a grasp on Hayden and bring him back. He’s barely managed to wrap his fingers around the small outstretched hand when he’s jerked backwards, losing his grip immediately.

“Hayden!” His world is a blur of mud and rock as he fights against the urgent tug of the rope. He scrabbles to get a grip on the rope, to unhook it from the harness, to not be dragged upwards and away from where he needs to be.

It takes three swipes of the blade against the rope, but he’s cut loose and falling back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this, kudos and comments are appreciated! Next update on Monday 28th December 😊


	2. Chapter 2

The timer winds down, and the beeping feels like a breath of fresh air. The motor turns, slow but steady, a high-pitched whine that breaks through the sound of rain as he pulls the rope through.

One second, he can feel Buck, getting closer and closer, and the next…

“Cap, the weight’s gone!” His voice wavers as he calls out, staring at Hen, the lightning bursting through the sky onto their looks of confusion and shock.

“Something’s wrong.” It’s not what he wants to hear, watching Bobby stare over the winch. He tries to keep his arms stay slow and steady.

The thunder rumbles. He hits 0 feet. Hen shouts about Buck cutting the line. She’s staring at Bobby. Chim’s clutching his head. Bobby is holding the frayed rope tightly in his fist, frowning at it with wide eyes.

He’s caught between looking at all of them, and running forwards to see if, just maybe, Buck’s stuck half-way. Maybe the rope caught on something and he’s got Hayden but no way back up now.

The way Hen looks at him, dismayed and concerned, and the echo of the weight disappearing in a flash, tells him that Buck’s done this himself.

So… he’s still alive. Okay, that’s something, for now. They need to get to him and Hayden.

Chim’s already suiting up, and he goes to open his mouth, but he’s got on the Captain Han look that brokers no disagreement, even as he places a silent hand on his arm. He knows, he _knows_ it makes the most sense, but until he gets back, all they can do is wait.

They’d never had qualms about leaving him at home before, not for a very long time, but he’d always had Maddie at least, even if was just a warm smile and a ruffle to his hair as she dipped into his room, telling him she’d be back in a few hours. Now, the quiet bounces and echoes, so he knuckles down and hunches over his books, though the words seem to reflect straight off his eyes and all he can hear is the sound of his breathing, huffing out another empty sigh.

He’s been staring at a blank word document for what feels like hours now, eyes growing dry even as the cursor blinks incessantly after the words ‘college essay’.

He’s not sure what he wants. Sometimes his own reflection feels incomplete, refracted into a million pieces until he’s only what other people want from him or expect him to be.

When his parents do speak to him, it’s always in passing - a singular cold kiss to the cheek in lieu of a greeting, followed by a checklist of questions about what he’s been doing with his time. They leave without telling him where they’re going.

Maybe they think he’ll follow his father’s footsteps if they push enough, if they wear him down into the image of what a Buckley should be - wring him dry of any emotion and fill him with a mindless, selfish ambition. He’s tethered to this house, never held but also kept close enough that the fire of hope isn’t extinguished. He walks those coals every day.

There _are_ rare sources of brief relief, when he can slip out of the house - a concert or two, the skatepark, the occasional girlfriend that feels like a firework across his night sky.

This time, he starts to make his excuses, claiming the trip is to go see a college, but the planned details of the lie go untold. He’s single-minded in his destination but, parked on an empty street, he triple-checks the address, trying to see if he can see some sign of Maddie in the manicured lawn or the pattern of the drawn curtains.

The door-bell echoes and he’s about to grab his phone and call her when the door is flung open. There’s a toothy smile on her face that settles into her eyes when she sees him.

“Evan!”

He’s suddenly lost for words, but she grabs onto his shoulders, eyes flicking over his face as though he’s an apparition that’ll melt under her fingertips.

“Hey Maddie.” He doesn’t know why he’s shy, but his stomach lurches in an unfamiliar way. It’s not like he hasn’t heard from her since she got married, but he could always feel her attention split occasional phone conversation, between him, and Doug and her new life and work.

She peers over his shoulder. “Did you come by yourself?”

He scoffs before he can catch himself. “Yeah, Mum and Dad don’t know I’m coming so just…”

She mimes zipping her mouth shut before pulling him in for a hug. “Come in before you catch a cold!”

Sitting on her sofa, he waits for her to get back from the kitchen with a glass of water and takes the time to look around the place. He still doesn’t see her.

The front door opens as Maddie returns, and a few splashes of water hit his new sneakers as Doug strides into the room.

“Evan?” Doug tilts his head to the side, looking him up and down, and shaking his hand as he shoots a curious look at his wife. “Didn’t know you’d be visiting.”

“I’m, it was kinda unplanned... um, not even Maddie knew!” He feels the apologies starting to spill out, but Doug just squeezes his hand before he lets go and sits back on the couch, gesturing for him to sit back down again too. Maddie slips into the gap left where Doug’s arm is stretched across the back of the cushions.

“How long are you staying?”

His mouth is open, but he doesn’t know what the right answer is, looking over at Maddie for any sort of silent hint, but she’s just looking at Doug.

“Not sure, but –”

Doug starts rattling off places for him to see before he heads back. “We went to the Chocolate World when we first moved, _obviously_ \- you remember, Maddie?”

The memory is clearly a fond one, as the couple get lost in each other’s eyes for a moment before they turn back to him.

“So,” Maddie has her thinking face on, “you’ll be applying to college now?”

He bites his tongue on the eye-roll and the defensive reply - she’s just curious, nothing more. Still, he can’t tell her how hard it’s been, not when Doug launches into his own monologue about the importance of picking the right college and the right courses.

They just listen along and nod, and it almost feels like old times when they catch eyes and he sees something flash behind them.

“– so do you have the helper gene or did my Maddie get all of it?”

He sits up as he realizes Doug finally wants some sort of response back, and Maddie rolls her eyes good naturedly.

“I’m sure he’ll pick something great, no matter what it is.”

A few hours and a hearty meal later, he’s already feeling like he’s over-staying his welcome, despite Maddie’s insistence that he’s not. He’s still hovering outside the door, as Maddie watches him with her cardigan pulled tight around her.

“You _can_ stay. There’s enough space in the house.”

“Are you working over the weekend? I was planning on driving back on Sunday afternoon.” It’s enough of an answer for her that she doesn’t try to fight him on it.

She looks up for a moment. “Nope, so that works perfectly.”

They spend a few days being tourists in her town, and his cheeks hurt by the end of it, with how much the grin that pops up on her own face prompts his own. The air is cold, but he’s not breathed this easily in a long time.

Each mile of the drive back confirms what he’s known for too long, and the decision is finalized when he lets himself into his parent’s house.

He needs to leave, there’s nothing for him here. When it comes time for him to move out for college, he packs everything he can carry, which turns out to not be much beyond the necessary, but he has no other choice - it has to be enough.

* * *

College parties were one thing, but here, he’s swept up in the heaving pulse of bodies on a dancefloor, pressed up against him, hands that approach him with appreciation. It sends his blood racing. It’s the ocean without the drowning. It feels like being alive.

Except the high wears off in the cool mornings, washed away in the breeze that fills the room, with its cold bed, bare bedside table, and three suitcases stacked in the corner. People still look him over, the same way they have for years, now even more openly since his uniform is just a pair of swim shorts.

He puts on his best customer service smile and wades into the orbit of the group of tourists. “Hi, I'm Buck. So, who’s taking the lesson today?”

Four pairs of eyes swivel and take a long drag of him, leaving him a little burnt inside. Three people retreat, leaving a tall woman, standing with her hands on her hips.

“Let’s get started then!”

He watches her tanned legs, the sway of her hips drawing attention to her barely covered curves as she walks forwards.

He only teaches beginners, but that still involves them getting waist deep in water, with fleeting touches to keep her upright or help her shift her balance when his words don’t work.

The hour passes quickly and she’s caught on pretty well. It’s still no surprise when she stands in the sand, leant up against the board, and asks if he offers extra lessons.

He’s free during the day on Tuesday, but there’s also another half hour before the next instructor starts their shift, and an empty shack in the meantime.

It’s a simple choice. 

He stills craves the night though, or at least what it brings. He’s good at what he does, flashy tricks and sleight of hand as he flashes his canines and leans forward on the bar, sliding drinks into open hands and getting tips or people’s numbers in return.

When people want things from him, it’s something easy, something he’s good at, something that fills him up one drop at a time. If he keeps this up, he can almost ignore the steady dripping that leaks from his heart.

It’s not a bar bathroom or in his car or even in his own bed. He has half on eye on her, as she guides him backwards into her bedroom and half an eye on where they’ve ended up. It’s… homely. There are photographs hung up, and he tries not to knock them loose as he’s pressed against the wall. There are cushions scattered over the bed, although he quickly moves them to the side after he falls back onto them.

She doesn’t tell him to leave straight away, and he can remember falling asleep with his arm draped over a waist, leant forward into the curve of a neck. It’s not his bed but she didn’t kick him out.

He wakes to his arm pressed into a dip in the center of the mattress, face fallen into the gap between pillows. There’s a note balanced on the table.

He unfolds it. There’s no name or number or instruction on where the coffee mugs are.

_Let yourself out when you’re awake_

He places the cushions back on the bed and straightens the photo-frames. It’ll be like he was never here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this, kudos and comments are appreciated! Next update on Monday 4th January 😊


	3. Chapter 3

It feels like ages, far longer than the 30 minutes before, caught in the miniscule infinity between the lightning and the thunder as they wait.

The tugging on the line feels like hope, and he breathes out a sigh of relief when a helmeted head emerges, along with Hayden. Hen whisks him and his mother away, and he turns back to where Chim is lifting himself to his feet.

“Buck’s fine, he just needs a ride.”

Bobby finally cracks a smile, although there’s an eye roll for now and there’s definitely a telling-off in there, for later. 

He finds a smirk creeping up on him as well, and he catches eyes with Chim, who manages a smile through how furiously his jaw is working.

* * *

It’s like daylight against the pitch-black sky. Thunder rumbles as fireballs erupt from the digging equipment. Everything is moving in slow motion as he pushes Bobby out of the way of the crashing crane.

He knows what it feels like to have smoke in his lungs, tarry and clinging and grating his every breath. He knows what it's like to be shot once, twice, thrice: each bullet sending out piercing pain that he can't even scream at. He knows the feeling of bruised ribs and arms, and fighting through the ache and hurt, just so he can survive and get home.

Nothing could compare to this.

He’s frozen where he landed. His mind feels empty. Or maybe it’s flooded, too consumed with only one thought: _Buck is trapped down there._

His arms give out. Even when he hits the earth, it feels like he’s still falling.

* * *

Eddie is a man of action, calm under pressure, quietly working to fix the problem at hand. Except, he’s not normally this quiet and it’s worrying her. She looks over at Chimney silently, exchanging a look of understanding. For all that the rain is pouring down and there’s a ton of people milling around, it’s too quiet: Buck’s not there to talk their ear off and Eddie has been mute since Bobby hauled him up from the ground.

“There must be another way.” Eddie voice cracks the silence, and before anyone can reply, he’s out in the rain, scanning around to see what he’s got to work with: eyes flicking over the crane and trucks, as though he’s mentally filing through the equipment available on each vehicle.

Bobby calls for him, but between the storm outside and the single-minded focus that blazes over Eddie’s features, it’s for naught.

It takes her wading out and dragging him back under the porch for him to finally look down at himself, eyes widening in realization of how he’s utterly soaked.

“Go inside, get dry.” Bobby’s tone is patient, even as his eyes flick over Eddie’s expression.

Eddie chews his lip, slowly nodding his head even as he stays on the spot.

Chimney takes his arm and he resists for a moment, before going limp in Chim’s grip, letting himself be led away. Chim turns and gives her a pointed look.

“Bobby –”

“I know Hen. We can’t lose two people tonight.”

He’s drifting – can feel it in the way his head takes time to settle against his pillow at night, how his body doesn’t quite know where he is when he wrests himself awake, the weight on his chest becoming his only companion.

He’s competing with every actor and screenwriter in Los Angeles, so he’s knows he’s lucky to have this job, even if his soul knows that being a waiter isn’t what he’s made for or what he wants. He feels himself wasting away, untethered and aimless.

He’s jolted out of his weary cycle home by a cacophonous series of explosions. The sky is too bright and blue to allow any other colors to flash across it, but the noise sounds like an entire box of fireworks was lit in one go, the distant explosion going on for a minute but echoing as though it’s far nearer. He continues on his way, but a few minutes later, he’s stopped an intersection and still thinking about it. The sound came from a direction that would take him home, albeit the long way.

He turns left at the next street. It takes a few minutes of winding around unfamiliar roads, and he’s starting to wonder why exactly he’s ended up off his normal route, when he turns the next corner and is faced with … a scene.

Flashing red lights radiate off the vehicles in the middle of the road, and men and women in blue are scurrying around, keeping back nosy members of the public. On one side of the street, what was once a large house is being submerged in foam, leaving behind a creaking mass of charred timbers.

There’s a ladder extending from one of the fire engines, and there are calls for Deluca and Darren to make their way up. He lifts his head up to watch as they clamber up the rungs, stretching across the gap of the ladder and jumping into the carcass of the house, emerging a minute later from the blackened ribs, with a young teenager in their arms.

There are already a few teenagers on the ground, and his eye is drawn to one, who’s wincing as a man holds out his hand and carefully folds back his shirt cuff, before informing him that it’s a first degree burn, so he got lucky.

He makes relatively quick work with a cold compress before starting to ask him a bunch of questions, which are interupted by one of the firefighters carrying the rescued boy.

“Another one, Sal?” “Don’t want to put you out of business, Eli.”

The men share a tight smile, before Eli and another one of his collegues get the kid onto a stretcher, starting to wrap a bandage over the reddened parts of his skin, whilst reassuring him and inquiring about how close he'd been to the fireworks.

Even amongst the rushing of the hose and the wisps of burning that permeate the air, there’s a calmness from those attending the scene, working together seamlessly to help those in need in the most dangerous of situations.

He finally drags himself away, but the red lights stay on his mind the rest of the way home.

Maybe there's no help on its way. Maybe they've already given up on him, assumed that this time he's been buried and lost for good. Maybe that's what the universe intended; God and the fates and whatever cosmic forces keep dragging him down. This time seems especially cruel; if only laughing at the irony wouldn't drown him. He tries to breathe evenly instead, remind himself that he's still above the water even as it laps at his throat.

It's not the same; the water is dark this time, deathly still and empty. He chose this, knew the risk and took it, because he had to help. And he did - Hayden is above ground and probably back in his mom's arms already, back with his sister, and they'll live to play together another day.

He's not a quitter, even when every muscle in his body has gone past aching and merely shivers in protest. The only way back to the land of the living is through. He takes a deep breath, knocking the regulator to the side with an unwieldy hand, and plunging under the water. He can't see where he came from, or where he's heading, but all he can do it keep going. He's done it before, he can do it again.

[His limbs slowly turn as heavy as the water and he feels himself drifting out of consciousness. He thinks he can hear Chris’ voice, asking where all the water went. Everything is grey and he’s back at the airport, watching Abby leave. _You’re alone._ He’s by himself, with Abby telling him goodbye, Maddie telling him she’ll leave again, the lawsuit.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jMeK3jxNyQ)

[Except, he _has_ Maddie, and Carla, and his fire family, and Eddie. Eddie and Chris, he has to get back to them, _you’re never going to be left behind_ , he has people who love him and have let him into their life, _it’s never going to change_ , he needs to get back to them, needs to fight to get home.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jMeK3jxNyQ)

[He feels his eyes flutter open and his limbs burn with effort and he’s moving upwards, rising, breaking free. He’s above the water, panting and gasping](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jMeK3jxNyQ), throwing off his helmet and turning onto his back to try and float, willing his legs to kick him to shore.

  


He’s alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end paragraphs have a video that I created for this particular scene (or rather, I created the video and then just summarised it in words here!): <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jMeK3jxNyQ>
> 
> If you like this, kudos and comments are appreciated! Last chapter will be up on Monday 11th January 😊


	4. Chapter 4

Bobby is talking, or at least he must be, because everyone is watching him. Words like “heat”, “grid”, and “oxygen” make their way through the fog that’s settled on his mind.

All he can feel is a bubbling in his veins, the desire to jump into action, to do something, _anything_ , rather than wait for some cobbled together plan that was wasting time. Time that Buck might not have, that he couldn’t afford.

Everyone else seemed to have given up, but he can’t, not again. He can’t lose Buck, _not again_.

“Heat seeking cameras only work if you’re hot.” The voice barely registers in his ears, but then Bobby is calling Buck’s name.

His feet skid in the mud, hands grasping at Buck and keeping him upright. He’s holding Buck up under his arms, an approximation of a hug as the other man hangs limply in his arms.

Hen and Chim are right behind him, and between them all, they manage to get him over to the waiting ambulance. Tears wiped from their cheeks, Hen and Chim wrap Buck up until Eddie's eyes almost hurt from staring at the reflective surface. Quiet medical chatter mixes with expressions of surprise and disbelief as they get to work.

All the while, he maintains his grip; steady warm hands wrapped around the trembling cold of Buck’s hand. It had made stepping into the ambulance far too complicated, but he’s not going anywhere, legs pressed against the stretcher as he leans over Buck, eyes roaming over his parted lips and the shallow movement of his chest.

His own chest is roaring, and his eyes are burning with the effort of holding everything in. He sucks in a desperate breath, and Chim gives him a straight mouthed nod back, a brief squeeze of his shoulder before focusses on Buck again.

It’s too soon for questions, for berating Buck about being so reckless, and Buck is clearly in no state to hear Eddie pick up the earlier conversation and tell him that he _does_ have something to come back to. As though he’s heard his thoughts, Buck rotates his head, blinking a few times before squinting up at Eddie.

“You stayed.”

“...Of course: I’ve got your back.” He’s trying for a joke, but it falls flat through his gritted teeth and furrowed brow, and now Buck is looking up at him with such concern that he wishes he could pretend better than this. Buck nearly died and he’s still the one looking worried.

“Don’t do that again.” The words are pushed from his mouth with force, and he feels Buck’s hand shift under his, where he’s holding it up and away from his body. He immediately loosens his grip, realizing he’s been crushing Buck.

“No,” Buck’s fingers scramble towards him and grasp his hand again, “Don’t go.” Buck’s head slumps back before they can see the effect of his words.

* * *

Two days later, he picks his parents up from their hotel. The drive back is tense, his father huffing his displeasure at how he drives, fists clenching in his lap, his mother complaining about the condition of the car and the roads and the music on the radio and the care he received at the hospital. There's no response that he can give that'd be enough.

He unlocks the front door,and finds ... people.

No, not people.

Maddie is in the kitchen, putting out food, and Chimney is behind her, carrying two plates precariously, cracking jokes and gum and making Maddie chuckle.

Athena has a firm but gentle hand on Bobby's arm, leading him away from the kitchen, sharing a knowing look with Hen, who's sitting on the stairs, Denny curled up in her lap and telling her about his day.

Karen has Nia, and is sitting at the dining table, Harry hovering nervously nearby until she calls him to come and hold her. She babbles happily in his arms and Harry looks back at Karen with an expression of surprised pleasure. 

May is with Michael and is trying to look interested and not roll her eyes as he's pointing out how impressive the staircase design is. She gives him a polite nod when he looks back at her for a moment, looking every bit like Athena’s daughter.

There's a cough behind him and he's jolted back to reality, taking a few more steps into his apartment and drawing attention to himself.

Eddie is on the sofa with Christopher, deep in conversation with Albert, who is perched on his coffee table. When they spot him, standing in the middle of the sudden lull in the conversation, Eddie stands up and strides over, pulling him into a tight hug.

Once they break apart, the room seems to start moving again, and he can only shoot a quizzical look back at Eddie before he's surrounded by the rest of his family.

**

He doesn't realise when his parents leave; doesn't realise, doesn't notice, doesn't know what the difference is anymore. Once all the guests have left, he allows himself to breathe out a sigh that he’s been holding in all evening, resting his head back against the closed front door. He rubs his eyes, taking a moment to dissolve into the salt and pepper kaleidoscope that erupts behind his eyelids, but the monochrome is soon replaced by blinding greens and blues, and he gasps as he opens his eyes.

“Buck?”

He jerks his head towards the voice, to see Eddie sitting on his couch, looking at him with concern.

“You’re still here?”

Eddie nods a few times, before he speaks. “I put Chris on your bed – he insisted on staying up until you got discharged, so he’s been…” Eddie throws a hand up, before shoving it into his pockets. There are bags under his eyes too.

“That’s fine, he needs the rest. Seems like you do too.”

Eddie scoffs at that. “Then who’s going to tidy all of this up?” There’s a bunch of plates next to the sink, and a few trays with leftovers.

“I’m sure Chris would appreciate the food.”

Eddie pushes himself off the sofa and walks into his kitchen. He can only watch on at the ease with which Eddie moves around, rearranging his fridge to make some space before grabbing some boxes for the food.

It leaves him feeling, amongst other things, a little useless, so he heads to the sink. Except that sends his stomach churning, and he has to grip onto the edge to keep himself upright.

“I can do the dishes instead.” The brief grip on his shoulder is warm and solid.

“It’s fine.”

He feels stupid, watching a tear drip past his nose as he stares at his kitchen sink and feeling himself grow cold inside over a bowl of water. He pulls in a shaky breath, feeling the air shudder its way out.

“You know what I realized when I was underground.”

Eddie hums out his attention, stopping his movements to stand beside him.

“I thought I was alone.”

“Buck –”

He cuts off Eddie’s well-meaning protest. “Eddie, it’s – I thought I was, but I’m not. At least not anymore.” He can’t look up, not with how his sentence pitches up at the end and rings out in the silence.

“I’ve got Maddie, and Carla, and the 118.”

He summons up the courage to lift his gaze, only to see Eddie with a furrow in his brow, though his eyes are slowly widening.

Hope is a dangerous thing but it’s all he’s ever had, and it’s got him this far, rewarded him with _this._

“And you?” He meets Eddie’s eyes and braces for the fallout, for Eddie to turn away and leave. Instead, Eddie just looks right back at him, holds his gaze and meets him in the middle with the slightest of smiles.

“You’ll always have us.”

His chest aches, but it doesn’t feel like drowning, not this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this, kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
